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Hayle Coven Novels

I’m an international, multiple award-winning author with a passion for the voices in my head. As a singer, songwriter, independent filmmaker and improv teacher and performer, my life has always been about creating and sharing what I create with others. Now that my dream to write for a living is a reality, with over a hundred titles in happy publication and no end in sight, I live in beautiful Prince Edward Island, Canada, with my giant cats, pug overlord and overlady and my Gypsy Vanner gelding, Fynn. ***WORLD'S BEST STORY2014*** Her mom's a witch. Her dad's a demon. And she just wants to be ordinary. I batted at the curl of smoke drifting off the tip of my candle and tried not to sneeze. My heavy velvet cloak fell in oppressive, suffocating folds in the closed space of the ceremony chamber, the cowl trapping the annoying bits of puff I missed. I hated the way my eyes burned and teared, an almost constant distraction. Not that I didn't welcome the distraction, to be honest. Anything to take my mind from what went on around me. Being part of a demon raising is way less exciting than it sounds. Sydlynn Hayle's teen life couldn't be more complicated. Trying to please her coven is all a fantasy while the adventure of starting over in a new town and fending off a bully cheerleader who hates her are just the beginning of her troubles. What to do when delicious football hero Brad Peters--boyfriend of her cheer nemesis--shows interest? If only the darkly yummy witch, Quaid Moromond, didn't make it so difficult for her to focus on fitting in with the normal kids despite her paranormal, witchcraft laced home life. Add to that her crazy grandmother's constant escapes driving her family to the brink and Syd's between a rock and a coven site. Forced to take on power she doesn't want to protect a coven who blames her for everything, only she can save her family's magic. If her family's distrust doesn't destroy her first.

Patti Larsen · Urbain
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803 Chs

Chapter 442: Powerless

Angry? What was angry? Raging? Had nothing on me. More like a pyroclastic meltdown with a side order of hell no.

I was not pacing the thick, cream carpet of a second floor bedroom with my hands so tightly fisted I couldn't feel them anymore. Nor was my wereguard prone on the matching comforter with some kind of liquid metal shoved in her mouth and wrapped around her head, the same oozing stuff pinning her arms and legs so tightly all she could do was tremble and stare at me with desperate eyes.

No, we were not trapped, prisoners, turned in by the very two kids I'd done everything I possibly could in my power to keep safe.

Hell. No.

Maybe if I'd had access to my magic, things would have turned out differently, though part of me doubted it. Not after Trill's blatant betrayal pinpointed our location. Charlotte tried to save me, diving in my way, yelling for me to run even as Demetrius's keening echoed in my head as he rushed the two sorcerers coming my way.